


Cicero

by Magentarivers



Category: Chicago (2002)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 14:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2585426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magentarivers/pseuds/Magentarivers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We can only speculate as to what happened to Veronica and Charlie that night. All we know is that they had it comin'.......</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cicero

"Outta ice.” Velma slurred through the half a bottle of scotch. Veronica smiled “And you’re not too drunk to go on stage?”  
“Darling you can never be too drunk to go on stage!”  
“I’ll drink to that” she laughed, raising her glass. “You can’t, we’re out of ice.” remarked Charlie from where he sat in the corner of the room. It was dimly lit, with the exception of the garish bulbs around the mirror where the two sisters painstakingly applied their make-up. Velma turned around and raised an eyebrow, “Well then get some lover boy. I didn't marry you for your good looks.”  
“It’s lucky I married you for yours. The guy at the desk liked the look of you, maybe he’ll knock a couple’a bucks off.” Charlie said pulling his wife’s waist onto his chest. She pushed away playfully. “God, I am a star and I have to get my own ice?!” Velma smoothed down her black bob, picked up her bag, flung it across her shoulder and left.

The corridor was cold, unlike the room. The grubby crimson carpet appeared to move under her feet. Maybe she was too drunk, she thought, stepping into the elevator. “All makes for a more swell show.” She convinced herself. DING! The foyer seemed like a different world to the hotel room. She strutted across the marble floor to the bar. “Cicero” shined in bright lights behind the desk. Velma squinted. “Outta ice” she flirted. The boy behind the counter, who wasn't more than 20, couldn't believe his luck. “Excuse me Miss Kelly?” he smiled back. “Easy tiger,” she caught sight of the name badge, and focused all her energy into trying to read it. "You heard me Mr Li-Lipshites. Out of Ice. Room 6.” He produced a silver bucket from behind the counter and began filling it. Velma rummaged through her bag for some gum. There was one left in the packet but her drunken eyes saw two. “Gum?” she offered the bartender. He took it. She went back for the non-existent piece. “Hey! You took them both!”  
“What? No-I” he dropped it. He’d seen enough drunks in his short time here, to know better. “Oh sorry. Your ice ma’am” Velma grabbed the container, the chill of the condensation against her skin, served well at sobering her up a fraction. “1924 and class is dying out Mr Lipshites. Put it on my tab.” She turned on her heels. Pop! Velma blew a bubble as the returned to the elevator.

Back on the gloom of the 4th floor, Velma struggled in her bag for the room key. As she reached the door she heard the giggles of her husband and sister within. She slipped the key in the lock, turned the handle. And froze. The pair was in a state of undress and Veronica had Charlie pined on the bed. Velma and Charlie locked eyes. Veronica chuckled, blisfully oblivious to her sister's presence. “Why d’ya stop?”  
“Yeah Charlie why d’ya stop?” Velma was past anger, past seeing red, she saw black. The bucket of ice fell to the ground as the lovers flew off each other and scrambled for any clothes they could. Velma lunged for her sister’s hair but caught her throat. Even better. She banged her head against the wall “Velmie, please!” Veronica choked. “Don’t call me Velmie! Don’t talk at all!” She tightened her grip and spat out the gum into her sisters face. Charlie made a dash for his delirious wife “Velma you’re being ridiculous.” She struck his face. Veronica fell to the ground and desperately crawled to the door. “I’m being ridiculous. No of course, I’m sorry.” She clawed his face once more. Chips of polish stuck in the gashes. “Uh-uh. Where are you going, you little slut?” screeched Velma, her sister almost at the door. She yanked up the lamp from the dressing table, and threw it. Crack. Thud. Then nothing.

Scarlet seeped into the cream carpet. Velma and Charlie stood stunned. Then without thought he ran over to the body. Glass lay around her cracked skull. Tears ran down his chin as he touched Verionica's cheek, still warm and flushed. He interlocked their fingers and broke down. Velma returned to the fury and snatched at the gun in her garter. “Why are you crying? It’s not like you were married or anything. If anyone, it should be me crying." Charlie was still hunched over is mistress' bare body with his back to his wife in complete ignorance to the threat. The firearm clicked in preparation and Charlie snapped round. “Baby. No you’re right. I’m sorry baby please.” He pleaded with bloodshot eyes. “Oh you lost any right to call me baby when all this started- When did it start?” No reply. She waved the pistol down in his face. “WHEN GOD DAMNIT!”  
“5 months ago.” He mumbled. The first tear emerged from Velma’s eye. She turned the gun on herself. “No Velma!” He growled, slowly getting up palms out. He didn’t know what to stay. His wife was strong willed, it would be her or him. Dashing for Velma he snatched and fumbled with the gun. The noise that followed was so loud, it was deadly silent. He fell to his knees. Velma dragged his body to the bed and pushed on the wound on his chest. Her throat became tight and she cried breathily "No Charlie, stop it. Come back" It was too late. Charlie’s eyes fell away from hers and fixed on a point on the ceiling.

“I’ll call for a doctor!” she screamed, backing into the bathroom. She turned on the tap and stared into the mirror. Her hair was a mess and the make-up had run. “Can I borrow your brush?” she called to her sister. No reply. “Taking that as a yes.” Velma did her best to fix herself up for the show. She looked in the sink and watched the crimson flow down the drain. Only then as she washed the blood from her hands, did she realise: They were both dead. Desperately she began scrubbing her hands, then arms and neck, until she was frantically cleaning he whole body. She stopped. “I didn’t do it.” She whispered, a grin growing on her lips. “He shot himself.” Velma thought to her sister. “But if I had done it, how could you tell me that I was wrong?”

Looking into the mirror once more, she wiped the pain from her cheek and painted over the anguish. Once again she smoothed down her bob. Practicing her trademark smile, Velma saw the reflection of the gun outside on the floor. She picked it up and placed it back in her garter. She strutted to the door stepping over the ice and corpse. There was a gut-wrenching squish as she stepped into the pool of blood. Velma took a final look at the scene. “They had it coming.”


End file.
